GIFT  OF 


Heart  Messages 

Quaintly  Penned 
Miniatures 
of  Life 


CHARLOTTE  M.  EDDY 


Little  Voyages  of  Life 


by 
CKarlotte  M. 


PAUL  ELDER  &  COMPANY 

SAN   FRANCISCO 

I    Q    2    2 


'••>  ?  *  *  * 

.»    *    <*£  4    **«  *       «    «' 

•* 


Copyright  December  1922 

by 
Charlotte  M.  Eddy 


Press  of  James  J.  Gillick 
Berkele^,  Calif. 

.       C/a«.  . 


Table  of  Contents 

SALUTE  AS  WE  PASS  ALONG 

WHERE  ARE  You  GOING 

THE  WISE  MARINER 

SUPER-SENSITIVENESS 

LET'S  PRETEND 

INGRATITUDE 

SINCERITY 

HOME  is  THE  SHELTERED  PORT 

TACT  AND  HELPFUL  PRAISE 

THE  LOVE  OF  POWER 

THE  SPIRIT  OF  WOMANHOOD 

CAUGHT  IN  AN  OCEAN  STORM 

WHILE  MEN  LAMENT 

DEAR  LITTLE  FLAPPER 

A  LESSON  FROM  TERWILLIGINS 

CALLING  A  SPADE  A  SPADE 

CALM  AFTER  STORM 

SWEET  SIXTEEN 


518593 


Salute 

As 

We 
Pass 
Along 


LITTLE      V  O  Y A  G £  5    .  Q  F      L I F  E 


Salute  as  We  Pass  Along 


HIKE  ships  that  pass  in  the  night  are  my  friendships.  We  hail 
as  we  pass  along  on  life's  little  voyages;  occasionally  we  meet 
in  port  and  are  on  our  way  again.  The  tea  had  grown  cold  in  the 
cups,  twilight  shadows  were  gathering,  and  we  were  loath  to  turn 
on  the  light.  The  fire  on  the  hearthside  crackled  its  warmth  into 
our  hearts.  Tea  was  forgotten  in  silent  reminiscences.  My  hostess, 
who  had  just  expressed  herself,  was  deep  in  meditation. 

But  there  are  other  voyagers  through  life  who  fail  to  hail  the 
passing  ship — fail  for  fear.  There  are  the  rich  and  the  successful, 
equally  unhappy  and  alone  in  the  world.  They  call  it  shrewdness. 
They  just  know  that  anyone  who  attempts  to  be  friendly  wants 
something  from  them.  They  want  the  friendship — oh  how  their 
hearts  yearn  for  it  and  life  is  lonely,  and  sometimes  there  is  a 
repressed  tear  and  choking  which  hurts  the  throat. 

But  they  are  shrewd  and  will  not  be  taken  advantage  of,  and 
are  always  on  the  alert  to  find  out  just  what  folks  are  after  when 
they  are  nice  to  them. 

Come,  then,  let's  give  a  joyous  salute  as  we  pass  along!  Who 
knows  the  heart  of  his  fellow  traveler,  or  how  he  needs  that  sunny 
smile  of  encouragement  to  lighten  his  way.  Better  be  fooled  ten 
times,  or  even  twenty  times,  if,  out  of  all  twenty  we  have  found 
one  friend.  Better  risk  speaking  to  someone  not  quite  our  equal 
socially;  not  quite  so  successful;  not  quite  so  rich;  since  in  so 
doing,  we  ourselves  are  enriched  in  spirit,  and  life's  little  voyages 
are  made  the  sweeter. 

Yes,  like  ships  that  pass  in  the  night  are  our  friendships  and  a 
crowded  port  is  my  simple  friend's  hearthside. 


LITTLE      VOYAGES      OF      LIFE 


Where  are  You  Going? 

XN  WHICH  direction  are  our  eyes  turned  along  this  little  voyage 
of  life?  Are  they  upon  a  roseate  future  with  each  day  full  of 
promise  and  our  bridges  burned  behind  us?  Or  are  they  looking 
backward  with  sight  centered  upon  the  past  and  our  feet  stumbling 
into  the  future? 

The  ever-present  now  is  all  we  can  possibly  attend  to  and  the 
past  is  all  done  and  settled  and  sealed.  We  cannot  compensate 
for  past  errors  by  concentrating  our  thoughts  upon  them,  but  we 
can  compensate  for  them  by  centering  our  thoughts  on  the  future 
and  making  the  best  of  every  hour  of  every  day  which  is  given  to 
us  to  labor  in. 

And  so  it  is  along  this  little  voyage  that  some  prefer  thinking 
of  yesterday's  failure  and  dwelling  upon  yesterday's  lack,  much 
as  a  ship  is  stuck  upon  the  coral  reefs  and  must  wait  for  the  turn 
of  the  tide  to  lift  her  off.  With  us  humans  it  is  not  necessary  to 
await  the  turning  of  the  tides;  they  turn  at  our  wish  and  in  obedi- 
ence to  our  driving  force.  We  could  so  easily  be  stranded  upon 
the  coral  reefs  of  misfortune,  fix  our  gaze  upon  the  reefs,  lament 
the  past  and  allow  the  overflowing  present  to  slip  past  us  and  the 
future  to  drift  out  of  our  vision. 

Let  us  remember  the  silver  lining  and  forget  the  cloud;  the 
rose  and  forget  the  thorn,  hitch  our  wagon  to  a  star  and  drive 
forward,  not  backward,  through  this  little  voyage  of  life. 


LITTLE      VOYAGES      OF      LIFE 


Wise  Mariner 


eooD  friends  —  true  friends,  and,  oh,  so  many  of  them  that 
sometimes  it  seems  as  if  all  one  has  to  do  is  to  open  his  heart 
and  let  love  enter!  Life,  like  spring,  with  its  voluptuous  verdure 
and  lovely  flowers,  is  ever  returning  and  beautiful. 

And  in  the  multitudinous  duties  of  just  plain,  everyday  life, 
honor  and  sincerity  of  purpose  abound  until  one  wonders  how  any 
one  ever  manages  to  find  the  comparatively  few  wrecked  voyagers. 
Yes,  there  are  those  few  —  but,  just  like  the  mariners  of  the  sea, 
do  we  not  stop  and  lend  a  helping  hand? 

A  little  wreckage  here  and  there  will  not  frighten  us  if  we  do 
not  view  it  from  the  wrong  end  of  the  telescope,  nor  concentrate 
in  fear  and  trembling  upon  the  comparatively  few  unpleasant 
aspects,  nor  befog  our  vision  with  too  much  dwelling  upon  the 
blackness  of  things;  but  rather,  through  the  clear  vision  gained  by 
a  healthy  understanding  of  all  this  wondrous  world,  we,  like  the 
wise  mariner  who  studies  his  charts  well  and  knows  the  rocks  and 
currents  and  coasts  and  guides  his  ship  safely  into  port,  on  our 
little  voyage  must  study  our  chart  of  life  that  we,  too,  may  safely 
come  to  port. 

Then  in  our  wisdom  may  we  be  able  to  lift  a  fellow  voyager 
out  of  the  darkness  into  the  light  —  off  the  rocks  into  the  middle 
of  the  stream  —  and  out  of  the  desert  of  loneliness  and  despair  into 
green  pastures  of  prosperity  and  love. 


\ 


Wm 


1 


^ 


LITTLE      VOYAGES      OF      LIFE 


Super-Sensitiveness 


[UPER-SENSITIVENESS.  What  a  world  of  heartache  the  very 
word  recalls!  What  unhappy  hours  and  unshed  tears  for  the 
brave  and  what  tragic  hours  and  scalding  tears  for  the  timid! 

Do  we,  as  we  travel  life's  little  voyage,  ease  the  path  of  the 
super-sensitive  traveler?  Do  the  super-sensitive — and  the  world 
is  overflowing  with  them — try  and  overcome  their  feelings  for  the 
sake  of  the  strong? 

Strange  as  it  may  sound,  the  brave,  the  strong,  the  healthy, 
the  upright — are  far  more  imposed  upon  than  the  weak.  Others' 
sorrows  are  hung  around  their  shoulders,  others'  wants  supplied  at 
their  sacrifice,  others'  lives  made  easy  by  their  weary  hours  of  toil, 
and  at  the  end  of  the  journey,  when  the  burden  has  become  too 
great,  they  crumple  and  fall. 

The  sphere  of  activity  of  the  super-sensitive  becomes  more  and 
more  limited  until,  with  a  seemingly  real  excuse,  he  is  relieved  of 
all  worry,  all  care;  all  anxiety  and  every  unpleasantness  of  life. 

Let  us  give  a  lift  to  the  brave  along  this  little  voyage  of  life. 
They  need  it  and  rest  assured  that  under  a  firm  exterior  and  a 
cheery  smile  lies  many  a  tired,  world-weary  soul. 


Let's 
Pretend 


'Swr.-fe- 


LITTLE      VOYAGES      OF      LIFE 


Let's  Pretend 


®HOM  do  we  fool  when  we  live  in  the  land  of  "Let's  Pretend?" 
Just  ourselves  and  no  other.  The  general  impression  is  that 
only  children  live  in  this  entrancing  land  of  pretend.  You  know 
and  I  know  many  "grown-ups"  who  have  dwelt  in  that  land  ever 
since  they  were  just  kiddies,  and  they  have  never  lived  in  the  world 
of  reality  long  enough  to  be  real  people  doing  real  things  of  the 
every-day  life. 

Some  dwell  in  the  day  of  "When  I  had  plenty,  I  used  to  do," 
and  others  in  the  day  of  "When  I  get  rich,"  or  "When  I  am  a 
success." 

How  really  few  dwell  in  the  ever-present  now — meet  the  day's 
needs — burn  their  bridges  behind  them  and  face  the  future  with 
an  unclouded  vision. 

Regrets  are  like  a  heavy  mental  fog.  They  cloud  the  vision, 
produce  sluggish  thought  action  and  failure,  and  disappointment 
follow  in  their  wake. 

Every  energy  is  needed  to  meet  today's  demands  along  this 
little  journey  of  life.  A  clear  vision,  a  heart  free  from  malice  or 
hatred,  and  a  pure  joy  in  work  for  work's  sake. 

With  these  qualities  as  an  asset  no  one  can  possibly  fail,  and 
the  very  atmosphere  will  vibrate  health  and  happiness,  and  the 
whole  world  will  be  a  success. 

So  let  us  dwell  in  the  ever-present  now,  along  this  little  journey 
of  life,  bury  the  past  and  smile  into  the  future. 


LITTLE      VOYAGES      OF      LIFE 


Ingratitude 


INGRATITUDE!  How  it  gnaws  the  very  heart  out  of  the  bene- 
factor! Sometimes  the  cause  of  ingratitude  is  selfishness. 
Sometimes  it  is  indifference.  But  more  often  it  is  the  ugly  outer 
manifestation  of  an  impenetrable  egotism. 

Along  this  little  voyage  of  life,  how  easy  it  is  to  say  "I  appreci- 
ate what  you  have  done  for  me,"  and  go  on  our  way  with  the  feel- 
ing of  satisfaction  which  comes  from  knowing  that  we  have  let  in 
just  a  ray  of  light  and  human  love  which  will  develop  the  desire 
on  the  part  of  another  to  continue  his  ministrations  of  brotherly 
love. 

Is  there  a  day  along  this  little  voyage  of  life  during  which  any 
one  of  us  does  not  receive  from  another  in  some  form  or  another? 
It  may  not  always  be  money  or  even  a  gift.  Sometimes  an  hour  of 
precious  time  given  by  a  busy  person  in  conversation  or  advice  or 
in  just  allowing  an  outpouring  of  another's  woes,  is  a  most  precious 
gift.  And  for  these  precious  hours — are  we  always  grateful? 

The  material  gifts  of  life  are  very  beautiful  to  look  upon  and 
have  about.  But  if  they  come  with  tender  associations,  then,  no 
matter  how  insignificant  in  monetary  value,  they  become  priceless 
treasures.  Appreciation  expressed  for  these  is  gratitude  for  tender 
friendship. 

How  much  more  priceless  are  the  inspirational  gifts  along  life's 
little  journey.  The  word  which  gives  courage  to  the  faltering 
heart.  The  loyalty  which  has  withstood  the  test  of  time  and  cir- 
cumstance. Would  it  not  be  good  for  our  souls,  to  each  night 
before  closing  our  eyes  in  sleep,  recount  faithfully  the  deeds  of 
kindness  which  have  been  our  portion  during  the  day  and  just 
allow  a  feeling  of  gratitude  to  flow  to  each  donor  from  the  depths 
of  our  hearts? 

Shall  we  let  the  current  which  carries  our  little  bark  along  this 
little  voyage  of  life  gain  its  momentum  from  brotherly  love,  or 
shall  we  try  to  paddle  up-stream,  struggling  against  the  inflow  of 
human  love,  encased  in  a  cloak  of  egotistic  ambition,  until,  ex- 
hausted and  wrecked,  we  are  tossed  upon  the  shores  of  desolation, 
crushed  in  spirit  and  soul? 


LITTLE      VOYAGES      OF      LIFE 


Sincerity 


®HAT  a  crying  need  there  is  for  sincerity  along  this  little  voyage 
of  life.  Just  simple  plain  sincerity  which,  at  bottom  is 
sterling  worth. 

The  small  man  seems  to  long  to  be  mistaken  for  someone  just 
a  little  greater  than  himself  and  whose  ideal  is  no  doubt  struggling 
to  be  mistaken  for  his  superior,  and  so  it  runs  all  along  the  line, 
beginning  with  the  lowliest  and  ending  with  kings  and  queens. 

Maybe  after  all  we  fool  no  one  but  ourselves  and  if  we  were 
worth  so  much  and  just  said  so,  we  would  gain  greater  esteem  in 
our  community  than  if  we  were  posers. 

The  bold  pretend  to  be  timid  and  the  timid  pretend  to  be  bold. 
The  ignorant  pretend  intelligence  and  the  intelligent  admit  their 
limitations.  The  clever  pretend  to  be  dull  and  lazy  and  the  stupid 
exert  themselves  to  be  clever.  The  rich  talk  hard  times  and  the 
poor  put  on  a  front  and  so  it  goes  until  one  wonders  if  the  world 
is  not  after  all  just  filled  with  a  lot  of  imaginative  children. 

Why  not,  along  this  little  voyage  of  life,  just  be  ourselves, and 
when  we  do  not  love  our  fellow  traveler  and  hope  to  do  him  an 
injury  the  first  opportunity,  at  least  let  us  be  sincere  and  not  smile 
sweetly  and  make  pretty  speeches  when  we  meet.  He  knows  what 
thoughts  lurk  beneath  the  smile  better  than  we  do  and  he  is  not 
believing — not  one  word — so  what's  the  use? 

It  is  strange  how  many  think  they  are  deceiving  the  world  and 
many  a  good  life  has  been  wrecked  upon  the  rocks  of  deceit  when 
sincerity  would  have  been  the  harbor  in  the  time  of  storm. 


LITTLE      VOYAGES      OF      LIFE 


Home  is  4ie  Skeltered  Port 

®ITH  half  a  century  of  love,  home,  children  and  friends  behind 
her,  life's  voyage  seemed  just  begun.  Any  drawing  room 
would  have  been  graced  by  her  presence:  her  gently  laughing  lips 
and  blue,  blue  eyes;  her  delicate  features  crowned  by  a  wealth  of 
silvered  hair,  and  those  soft,  white  hands  so  small — all  were  in 
such  contrast  to  the  ambitions  in  that  sweet  mother  soul  as  she 
disclosed  her  plans  for  a  business  career,  that  one's  heart  fairly 
ached  for  her.  Her's  still  the  vision  of  the  matinee  idol  worshipper 
and  life's  hard  knocks — what  would  they  do  to  her? 

The  thrill  of  the  business  world  is  far  reaching.  Like  a  well 
staged  play  it  dazzles  from  afar.  And,  too,  like  a  well  staged  play 
from  behind  the  scenes  with  its  grease  paint,  cheap  jewelry,  soiled, 
costumes,  perspiring  nerve-wrought  performers,  its  romance  dis- 
solves before  the  eye  as  a  fog  lifts  to  disclose  a  ragged  village. 

The  thrill  remains  for  some  of  life's  voyagers  and  since  the  war 
the  most  romantic  of  all  is  not  thoughtless,  laughing,  free-hearted 
youth.  No,  not  at  all.  It  is  romantic  maturity.  The  fledgelings 
have  flown  the  nest,  and  home,  that  sacred  shrine  in  every  life,  is 
crushed  beneath  the  dainty  foot  of  romantic  maturity  as  thought- 
lessly as  the  flowers  in  the  fields. 

The  business  world  is  the  open  sea.  Home  is  the  sheltered  port. 
Fifty  years  in  port  do  not  fit  the  ship  to  cross  the  bar  and  breast 
the  storm,  dear  romantic  maturity.  Life's  little  voyage  for  you 
has  been  very  smooth  and  you  a  charming  voyager.  Why  not  be 
wise  and  furl  your  sails  gracefully? 


Tact 
ana 

Helpful 
Praise 


• 


LITTLE      VOYAGES      OF      LIFE 


Tact  and  Helpful  Praise 

HE  world  is  so  full  of  a  number  of  things,  I'm  sure  we  should 
all  be  as  happy  as  kings"  echoes  from  our  own  Robert 
Louis  Stevenson,  and  one  wonders  if  possibly  he  had  in  mind,  when 
he  wrote  those  lines,  the  varied  experiences  of  our  everyday  lives. 

The  world  is  so  full  and  so  busy — are  those  who  remain  out  of 
the  whirl  sleeping  through  a  golden  opportunity  to  see  and  know 
and  feel  the  fulness  of  life? 

And  so  it  was  in  a  hurried  meeting  with  a  friend  who  passes 
my  way  once  in  a  long  while,  that  she,  in  a  burst  of  confidence, 
brought  forth  a  slip  of  paper.  In  the  busy  rush  of  life  she  had 
found  time  to  seek  the  better  things  and  is  living  them  hour  by 
hour  in  her  everyday  life. 

Tact  and  Helpful  Praise,  she  calls  it  and  here  are  the  thoughts 
which  have  come  to  the  heart  of  a  fellow  voyager. 

"Have  tact,  discretion  and  forbearance.  Form  the  habit  of 
avoiding  that  which  distresses  others.  Give  praise  which  lightens 
the  load  and  brightens  the  heart.  Give  honest,  sensible  praise 
and  warm  encouragement.  Awaken  new  energy  and  hope.  Dis- 
cover what  is  most  needed  and  give  it  gladly.  Cultivate  the 
understanding  heart.  Have  genuine  interest  and  integrity  of 
intention.  Remember  that  what  I  am  is  what  really  matters. 
Be  sincere,  generous,  courteous,  considerate,  gracious,  really  well- 
bred  and  genuinely  refined.  Show  my  interest  and  pure  pleasure 
in  another's  gain  and  pleasure.  Be  thoughtfully  kind.  Have 
wholehearted  delight  in  the  happiness  of  others." 

It  will  not  require  a  prophetess  to  tell  what  her  little  voyage 
of  life  will  bring  forth,  will  it? 


LITTLE      VOYAGES      OF      LIFE 


Love  of  Poxver 


COWER,  that  glistening  bubble  which  fascinates  older  minds  as 
completely  as  the  soap  bubble  does  the  child  mind,  and  is 
just  as  easily  pricked,  is  the  root  of  the  sensitiveness  in  human 
nature. 

What  is  this  magnetic  force  of  the  unseen  which  binds  its 
victims  with  egotism,  when  the  mad  desire  for  its  possession  is 
awakened?  And  once  drawn  within  its  terrible  meshes,  all  that 
is  dear,  all  that  is  lasting,  is  thrown  recklessly  to  the  winds,  a 
sacrifice  upon  its  altar.  Then  when  almost  within  grasp,  this 
power  bubble,  all  glistening  with  promise,  beautiful  in  its  unattain- 
able form,  at  touch,  bursts,  and  nothing  remains  but  the  ashes  of 
ambition  which  consume  the  shattered  hopes. 

Love  of  power  reveals  the  weak,  because  the  really  noble  do 
not  seek  it,  and  the  competent,  the  efficient,  the  trustworthy,  know 
its  pitfalls,  and  accept  its  responsibilities  with  humility  and  under- 
standing. These  are  they  who  never  make  a  display  of  their  power, 
and  on  this  little  voyage  through  life  travel  quietly,  never  wound- 
ing a  fellow  traveler. 

There  are  those  who  perceive  in  this  glistening  bubble  all  its 
rainbow  colorings,  who,  through  ignorance,  sacrifice  their  all  for 
its  possession.  Love  and  friendship  to  them  becomes  of  minor 
value,  and  they  wound  ruthlessly  their  fellow  traveler  on  life's 
little  voyage  and  thus,  poor  souls,  destroy  the  only  substance  of 
which  real  power  is  built. 


LITTLE      VOYAGES      OF      LIFE 


Spirit  of  Womankood 


HE  spirit  of  womanhood!  One  must  pause  and  reflect  before 
the  realization  of  that  tremendous  force  breaks  upon  our  con- 
sciousness. It  is  that  which  has  inspired  the  noblest  acts  of  man, 
has  led  him  to  the  supremest  sacrifices.  It  is  the  embodiment  of 
man's  ideal,  and  when  woman  is  true  to  the  spirit  of  womanhood 
there  is  always  someone  who  will  sacrifice  his  all  that  she  may 
realize  her  ideal. 

To  woman  has  been  given  imagination,  and  that  is  the  spirit 
of  womanhood.  To  her,  also,  has  been  given  creative  thought, 
and  that,  too,  is  the  spirit  of  womanhood;  and  to  her  has  been 
given  the  most  sacred  trust  of  all  —  the  guidance  of  future  genera- 
tions. 

The  world  has  been  builded  by  man,  but  upon  woman's  imagi- 
nation, and  where  she  has  seemingly  lacked  imagination  it  has 
been  the  spirit  of  womanhood  that  has  fired  the  imagination  of 
man  and  inspired  him  to  accomplish  the  seemingly  impossible. 

Slowly  down  the  ages  woman  has  unfolded  until  at  the  present 
time  this  unfolding  seems  to  be  expressing  in  excessive  activity, 
which,  after  all,  may  be  the  reaction  of  thousands  of  years  of  quiet 
and  protection;  but  the  spirit  of  womanhood  will  always  remain 
the  same,  and  just  as  soon  as  man  is  through  gasping  at  her  sudden 
unfoldment  he  will  in  his  very  nature  leap  to  the  front  and  again 
accomplish  the  impossible  for  her  sake. 

Then  life's  little  voyage  will  only  be  enriched  by  the  higher 
development  of  both. 


LITTLE      VOYAGES      OF      LIFE 


Caught  in  $ie  Ocean  Storm 

IOMAN,  in  the  beginning,  was  blamed  for  the  sin  of  the  world. 
In  her  humility  she  became  man's  slave,  and  in  her  beauty 
his  ideal.  In  man's  mind  for  thousands  of  years  woman  has  been 
the  composite  of  his  highest  ideals.  For  her  honor  would  he  die, 
and  for  her  sake  he  would  commit  many  deeds.  For  her  he  would 
face  hardships  untold  and  for  her  would  he  attain  the  spiritual 
heights. 

But  during  the  past  few  years  woman,  tired  of  exalted  slavery, 
has  stepped  from  her  pedestal  into  the  midst  of  struggling  hu- 
manity, and  almost  as  if  in  a  drowning  mental  state  she  has  turned 
upon  her  own  sex  and  is  waging  a  most  ruthless  warfare. 

That  all-consuming  desire  for  freedom  and  power  is  not  only 
destroying  her  beauty,  but  devouring  her  soul.  Like  a  tiny  ship 
which  has  put  out  to  sea  and  is  caught  in  an  ocean  storm,  helplessly 
tossed  by  the  huge,  angry  waves  and  unleashed  winds,  too  small 
either  to  return  to  port  or  continue  the  voyage,  is  woman  in  this 
maelstrom  of  hatreds,  petty  jealousies  and  selfishness.  Too  weak 
and  too  inexperienced  to  guide  her  ship  through  the  storms  of  this 
little  voyage  of  life,  just  yet,  is  she. 

Ruthless  warfare  was  not  a  conception  for  the  world  war;  it 
was  the  culmination  of  man's  inhumanity  to  man  and  woman's 
inhumanity  to  woman.  Only  brotherly  love  can  calm  the  storm — 
that  impersonal  love  which  encompasses  all  humanity.  And  as  we 
realize  this  truth,  these  little  voyages  of  life  will  unfold  all  the 
beauty  and  abundance  with  which  this  great  beautiful  world  of 
ours  is  overflowing. 


Wkile 

Men 

Lament 


LITTLE      VOYAGES      OF      LIFE 


While  Men  Lament 


a  RE  men  so  busy  regretting  the  loss  of  feminity  that  they  are 
losing  sight  of  chivalry? 

Loud  and  long  have  been  the  masculine  lamentations  over  the 
evolution  of  woman  from  the  clinging  vine  to  efficient  womanhood ; 
from  the  uncomfortable  top-knot  to  bobbed  hair;  from  the  germ- 
accumulating,  sweeping  trains  to  the  short  skirts  and  from  the 
red-nosed,  floor  scrubbing,  shiny-faced  housekeepers  to  the 
powdered,  rouged,  well-groomed  life  companion. 

Each  of  these  stages  of  development  have  been  greeted  with 
open  scorn,  loud  malediction  and  secret  admiration.  Each  con- 
demned and  then  condoned  and  finally  welcomed  with  open  arms. 

Womanhood  of  today  is  man's  ideal  perfected,  and  the  clinging 
vine  an  unnecessary  burden. 

But  what  about  the  evolution  of  man,  since  the  days  of  the 
powdered  wig,  cuffs  of  real  lace,  white,  pink  or  blue  satin  knickers, 
long  silk  hose  and  bejeweled  slippers,  to  the  soft-collared  man  of 
today,  with  his  heavy  brogues  and  sombrero  hat?  His  rough 
manner  and  his  lack  of  chivalry? 

Both  have  traveled  far  on  this  little  voyage  of  life.  The  cling- 
ing vine  would  no  more  suit  the  soft-collared  hero  of  today  than 
the  elegant  dandy  of  yore  would  suit  the  twentieth  century  woman. 
They  have  been  traveling  side  by  side.  Like  the  fog  horn  on  the 
bay,  which  drowns  every  other  sound,  man  has  thundered  and 
boomed  at  each  evolution  of  woman,  while  she  has  been  so  busy 
evoluting  she  probably  has  not  even  noticed  the  changes  through 
which  man  has  passed.  Except  just  one — and  that  she  always  has 
noticed  and  always  will  notice  with  a  little  heartache — the  loss  of 
chivalry.  That,  woman  will  always  crave,  and  that  to  her  will 
always  be  the  one  treasured  trait  in  man. 

Let  us  turn  the  old  school  into  the  new  and  fashion  the  new 
school  after  the  old  and  teach  our  boys  that  chivalry  in  man  is 
just  as  priceless  a  possession  as  feminism  in  woman,  along  this 
little  journey  of  life. 


LITTLE      VOYAGES      OF      LIFE 


Dear  Little  Flapper 


GHE  dear  little  flapper  with  her  slap-slap  shoes  and  her  bobbed 
hair  flung  to  the  winds  while  she  carries  her  hat  in  her  hand, 
garbed  in  artistic  loose  flowing  garments,  is  just  about  the  sweetest 
thing  the  world  has  produced  Life  stretches  before  her  in  all  the 
perfumed  beauty  of  the  full  blown  flower  garden.  Certainly  she 
assumes  no  responsibility  and  we  who  are  a  little  older  would 
grieve  if  she  did. 

There  are  only  a  few  of  those  happy  girlhood  days  along  this 
little  journey  of  life,  and  it  is  the  duty  of  the  older  generation  to 
prolong  them  as  long  as  possible.  There  is  plenty  of  time  for  her 
to  take  on  life's  burdens.  Supposing  she  does  giggle  and  laugh 
her  way  along.  Supposing  she  does  in  her  innocence  accept  the 
wrong  invitation.  She  will  not  repeat  the  offense,  as  a  rule,  and 
way  in  the  back  of  her  little  head,  the  little  flapper  is  storing 
knowledge  which  she  will  use  through  life.  She  seems  to  be  pos- 
sessed of  the  two  qualities — one  of  being  a  perfectly  silly,  brainless 
little  flapper  and  all  that  that  implies,  and  the  other  of  getting  a 
comprehensive  understanding  of  scientific  problems  and  the  great 
fundamentals  of  life.  Either  one  she  sheds  with  perfect  ease, 
while  she  assumes  the  role  of  student  or  flapper  with  an  ingenuity 
which  leaves  this  staid  generation  gasping. 

The  teen  age  flapper  is  the  joy  of  the  century,  but  the  middle- 
aged  flapper — what  shall  we  do  about  her?  Shall  we  make  an  age 
limitation  and  say  that  at  a  certain  turnstile  along  this  little  voy- 
age of  life  woman  must  assume  a  burdened  expression  and  cast 
off  all  spontaniety  in  order  to  uphold  the  dignity  of  her  age?  If 
she  still  remains  young  in  spirit,  isn't  she  to  be  admired  rather 
than  censured?  And  when  she  bobs  her  hair  and  shakes  her 
curly  locks  to  the  winds  and  her  eyes  sparkle  with  the  joy  of 
living — should  we  not  welcome  her  along  this  little  voyage? 
After  all,  who  says  she  must  not?  And  why  do  we  say  she  must 
not? 

Sometimes  all  the  world  seems  to  roll  along  except  the  human 
mind,  and  that  alone  seems  to  take  a  stand  which  may  be  just  the 
best  stand  to  take  for  the  time  being,  but  which  no  more  fits  into 
the  general  scheme  of  things  a  few  years  later  than  the  proverbial 
square  peg  in  the  round  hole.  So  let  us  not  condemn.  Let  us 
rather  smile  a  welcoming  to  the  flapper  as  she  enters  the  little 
voyage  of  life  and  smile  our  encouragement  to  the  middle-aged 
flapper  who  may,  after  all,  only  have  a  clearer  vision  than  the  rest 
of  us,  and  is  proving  the  courage  of  her  convictions  when  she 
appears  in  her  flapper  regalia  and  bobbed  hair. 

The  open  mind  and  a  gentle  love  of  humanity  will  make  life's 
little  journey  a  voyage  of  joy. 


LITTLE      VOYAGES      OF      LIFE 


A  Lesson  from  Tenvilligins 


"  is  a  tiny  goldfish  in  a  round  glass  jar  —  a  per- 
feet  specimen,  whose  transparent  fins  and  huge  fan  tail 
move  obediently  to  his  whims  as  he  swims  'round  and  'round  in 
his  little  world,  day  after  day,  never  ceasing  his  activities  even 
through  the  night.  Singularly  enough,  he  is  always  swimming  with 
his  nose  to  the  glass,  as  if  seeking  to  enter  the  great  outside  world. 

He  is  perfect  and  rare  and  beautiful,  this  goldfish,  and  still  he 
can  never  hope  to  escape  from  his  little  round  prison. 

Are  we  like  the  little  goldfish,  Terwilligins,  going  'round  and 
'round  in  our  little  world,  bumping  our  heads  against  a  wall  just 
as  impassable  and  just  as  seemingly  transparent  as  the  glass  jar 
which  imprisons  our  pet? 

Are  we  fulfilling  some  law  of  activities  in  our  running  'round 
and  'round  in  our  daily  routine  of  life,  seeing  visions  of  a  great 
beyond,  but  obstructed  by  some  invisible  force? 

One  cannot  help  but  wonder  if  this  were  so,  if  he  withdraws 
from  the  personal  activities,  personal  hatreds,  personal  jealousies, 
personal  ambitions,  and  views  this  mad  scrambling  of  humanity 
with  an  impersonal  mind. 

This  impersonal  mind  is  the  universal  mind,  which  is  able, 
through  the  complete  elimination  of  human  greeds  and  desires,  to 
work  for  the  good  of  all.  It  is  the  mind  of  great  poets,  writers, 
musicians  —  the  mind  of  genius. 

It  is  the  mind  which  told  us  to  love  our  neighbors  as  we  love 
ourselves  and  when  we  have  done  that  every  day  along  this  little 
voyage  of  life,  we  have  done  all. 

In  that  one  act  are  we  stripped  of  every  weapon  of  warfare  — 
national  or  personal  —  ambition,  hatred  or  viciousness  in  any  of  its 
forms,  and  the  heaven  we  have  been  so  frantically  seeking  in  the 
great  unknown  will  be  ours. 


LITTLE      VOYAGES      OF      LIFE 


Calling  a  Spade  a  Spade 

[o  A  SPADE'S  a  spade — is  it?  And  you  are  not  afraid  to  say  so, 
Is  that  courage  or  cruelty  in  your  nature? 

Among  kings  and  queens,  and  all  rulers  of  the  earth;  among 
their  hirelings  down  to  the  very  lowest;  among  society  in  every 
walk  of  life  and  in  business  from  the  greatest  to  the  least,  a 
"spade's  a  spade,"  you  reiterate,  and  always  add  that  you  are  not 
afraid  to  say  so. 

Then  after  you  have  spaded  your  victim  into  fine  dust  and 
scattered  that  dust  in  the  eyes  of  his  friends — have  you  really 
accomplished  anything  along  this  little  voyage  of  life? 

Did  you  spade  up  your  victim  so  thoroughly  that  you  might 
plant  the  seed  which  would  blossom  into  something  good  and  beau- 
tiful— or  did  you  just  spade  deep  that  you  might  bury  him? 

There  are  many  good,  fearless,  cruel  spaders  along  life's  little 
voyage  who  leave  the  world  embittered  because  of  their  brief  jour- 
ney. But  how  welcome  are  those  beautiful  characters  who  share 
their  joys  and  spread  sunshine  wherever  they  go!  who  plant  the 
seeds  of  hope  in  some  timid  traveler's  heart,  or  courage  in  the 
minds  of  fearful  failures!  Whose  hearty  greeting  in  the  passing 
throng  brings  a  smile  and  turns  the  tides  of  life  into  glistening 
channels  of  hope! 

These  are  they  who  are  afraid  to  call  a  spade  a  spade  because 
they  have  not  the  cruel  courage  to  inflict  the  hurt.  Moral  cowards 
they,  when  it  comes  to  hurting  a  fellow  voyager — but  who  sail 
unostentatiously  and  fearlessly  along  on  their  mission  of  love, 
spading  only  to  plant,  never  to  bury. 


Calm 
After 
Storm 


LITTLE      VOYAGES      OF      LIFE 


Calm  after  Storm 


BFTER  the  storm,  the  calm.  And  the  flotsam  and  drift  line  the 
coasts,  gather  in  the  sheltered  nooks  and  are  redeemed  by  the 
casual  passer-by. 

After  life's  storm  the  calm.  And  in  how  many  ways  does  it 
come?  The  flotsam  of  humanity  drifts  to  uncertain  shelters.  Is 
it  often  redeemed  by  the  passer-by? 

The  flotsam  and  drift  of  humanity,  like  the  incoming  and  out- 
going tides,  are  perpetually  moving  forward  and  backward, 
forward  and  backward — restless,  hopeless  and  helpless.  The 
wreckage  of  human  experience,  they.  East  or  west,  it  matters  not ; 
everywhere  lies  the  human  driftwood.  Will  their  suffering  prove 
their  blessing  and  are  they  after  all  just  young  souls  not  yet 
sufficiently  awakened  to  their  responsibilities  to  enable  them  to 
rise  above  circumstances? 

Somehow  one  prefers  to  think  of  them  in  this  way,  because  if  it 
is  suffering  which  will  awaken  them  and  bring  them  an  under- 
standing of  their  responsibilities  of  life,  then  their  suffering  and 
struggling  do  not  seem  in  vain. 

And  during  life's  little  voyages,  in  the  storm  or  the  calm,  if  the 
mariner  is  wise,  the  wrecks  will  be  few  and  the  drift  will  be  scarce 
and  those  who  have  conscientiously  done  their  part  will  be  enabled 
to  enjoy  the  beautiful  things  of  life,  instead  of  sorrowing  with  the 
unfortunate. 


LITTLE      VOYAGES      OF      LIFE 


Sxtfeet  Sixteen 


[WEET  Sixteen !  With  your  youth,  beauty,  grace  and  laughter — 
the  little  girl  of  yesterday  and  the  woman  of  tomorrow.  One 
moment  assuming  the  dignity  of  a  grown-up;  the  next  performing 
the  antics  of  a  romp.  Trying  to  hold  on  to  those  harum  scarum 
Tom  boy  days,  while  sparkling  eyes  are  beholding  visions  of  a 
rosy  future. 

To  you,  every  frill  and  furbelow  brings  a  thrill,  every  beggar  a 
high  resolve ;  and  the  while  mother  looks  on  with  empty  arms  and 
anxious  heart,  as  you,  Sweet  Sixteen,  learn  to  use  your  wings. 

Could  that  really  have  been  you  in  life's  tempest?  What 
forces  unseen  snatched  you  and  tossed  you  about  and  wrecked 
you  on  the  sea  of  experience?  Like  an  infant  in  arms  in  a  ship- 
wreck were  you  in  your  helplessness! 

With  all  the  enthusiasm  of  youth,  you  rushed  madly  after  life 
and  were  bedazzled  by  its  glamor,  and  now,  with  your  wings  so 
soon  broken  and  all  your  dreams  shattered  before  you  have  really 
had  a  taste  of  the  real  things  of  life — which  road  will  you  choose? 

Come  back,  Sweet  Sixteen!  Broken  wings  have  mended  and 
wrecked  ships  have  been  salvaged.  Noble  hearts  will  pity  your 
youth,  and  although  you  have  betrayed  the  sweetest  year  in  your 
little  voyage  of  life,  the  world  is  older  and  wiser  now  than  ever 
before,  and  will  forgive. 


51851) 


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